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TKHellesle^ /Hja$a3tne 


James Otis, Lawyer, Statesman, and Patriot, Henry Fowle Durant . . 265 

The Spibxt and Scope of Graduate Study, Martha Hale Shackford, '96 . . 270 

Apres Nous le Deluge A. J. S.,'99 273 

A Vacation Ca ll Frances E. Hildreth, '95 . 276 

March Alice L. Brewster, '89 . . . 279 

In the Cellar '98 .279 

His Sister Geraldine Gordon, 1900 . . . 282 

The First Bluebird . . ' . . . K. W. T., '99 287 

On the Circuit '98 287 

Jottings 290 

Editorials 293 

Free Press 296 

Exchanges 297 

Books Received 299 

Books Reviewed 300 

College Notes ' 302 

Society Notes 305 

Alumna Notes 307 

Marriages 311 

Births 312 

Deaths 312 

idol urn. — flliarcb, 1898 no. 6. 

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The Wellesley Magazine. 

Vol. VI. WELLES LEY, MARCH 19, 1898. No. 6. 




EVA G. POTTER, '98. 


The Wellesley Magazine is published monthly, from October to June, by a board of editors 
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[Abstract of lecture delivered by Henry Fowle Durant in Music Hall, Boston, on the evening 

of Feb. 1, I860.] 

My task is to recall the memories of one of the illustrious dead, a 

lawyer who was the acknowledged leader of the bar, although he was rarely 

heard in any but a Boston courthouse ; a patriot who from Faneuil Hall 

called his countrymen to defend their liberties ; a statesman whose struo-o-les 

and whose success were almost wholly confined to a provincial legislature 

in Massachusetts, but who, with this narrow circle only for his immediate 

audience, uttered those inspired thoughts and words which made a continent 

free and opened a new volume in the great history of the world. I seek to 

call back from the past those ancient days of doubt, and fear, and strife, — 

days of awakening light, days of the dawning of liberty, — which preceded our 

American Revolution, and to give a portrait of James Otis, the chief actor 

in those scenes. I desire to do this mainly for the reason that, although his 

name is honored and revered by those who have made the early history of 


our revolution their study, and although some of the later historians give 
him his merited rank and station, yet owing to many circumstances, he has 
not that home in the hearts of his countrymen to which his great services 
and sacrifices entitle him, and his name is not the familiar household word 
which it would be if his unrewarded services were remembered and his life 
were better known. 

It is as a patriot and a statesman that James Otis has these great claims 
upon the gratitude of his countrymen. The first scene of the great drama 
which terminated so fatally for him, so brilliantly for his couutrymen, is 
near the close of the second French war. Never had the power of England 
seemed so great, never could a contest between her and her colonies have 
seemed so hopeless or so impossible. Never were the colonies more attached 
to Great Britain than then. The Colonial troops had fought side by side 
with the veterans of England. Shouting for the same kino; and charging 
under the same victorious banners, they had swept like a storm along the 
bloody plains of Abraham, and proud of their common success, proud of 
their unstained loyalty, they boasted themselves to be Britons. 

The colonies, with a chivalric loyalty, had taxed themselves year after 
year to carry on England's war against the French ; so extreme were these 
self-imposed burdens that at one time the taxes in Boston amounted to two 
thirds of the entire income of the real estate ; and yet no sooner was the 
war in America ended by the capitulation of the Canadas, than a system of 
artful and insidious measures was instituted to extend the royal power, to 
levy new and illegal taxes, and to enslave the colonies. 

The colony of Massachusetts Bay was selected as the scene of the first 
assault upon liberty, and it is difficult to conceive of laws more odious or 
unwise than the various acts of trade, enacted for many years, but hitherto 
allowed to sleep unexecuted. Under them, foreign commerce was impos- 
sible, for no imports of European manufacture were allowed, except from 
England and in English vessels. To compel the use of English broadcloths, 
the colonists were forbidden to sell their wool from one plantation to another ; 
and if they made it into cloth they could not sell it abroad or in another 
colony. To compel the use of English tools, it was forbidden to erect 
furnaces for making steel, and if the colonists bought English iron they 
were not allowed to manufacture it into American nails. The application 


for the writs of assistance, which would at once give the authority of the 
courts and, if disputed, the whole civil and military power of the colony and 
the crown to enforce these laws, opened the eyes of the alarmed colonists, 
who felt that this was the first blow of tyranny. 

At this emergency James Otis stood forth to rule and sway the 
destinies of his countrymen. Until then he had been devoted to the 
laborious duties of his profession. His eloquence and learning had made 
him the acknowledged leader of the bar, and had secured to him its highest 
honors. He had been appointed Advocate General, and as such it was his 
official duty to argue in favor of these illegal acts, but he did not hesitate 
for a moment between his intei'est and his love of liberty, and he promptly 
resigned the very considerable salary and the high office, and volunteered 
to appear, without fee or reward, for his fellow citizens, and resist the 
application; and so in the month of February, 1761, the great cause 
came on. 

The importance of that trial cannot easily be overstated, for historians 
concede that it was the spark that kindled the flame ; that it was in that hour 
American independence was born. It was the cause of the people against 
the king, the cause of liberty, struggling in the iron hand of arbitrary 
power, and last, but greatest of all, it was the cause of the Puritans. 

For the crown, the case was opened and argued by Mr. Gridley, an 
eminent lawyer of ripe attainments and genuine ability, who supported his 
cause with much research and learning. He was followed by Oxenbridge 
Thacher, who is said to have argued for the citizens with great ingenuity, 
although with moderation. But when James Otis came to speak the whole 
scene was changed. He grasped the great subject as a statesman and an 
orator, not as a barren debate of musty precedents, or of narrow construc- 
tion of statutes, but as a vast question of the natural inalienable rights of 
man, — a question of the fundamental powers of government. His great 
nature was stirred to its very depths, and as he uttered the grand truths of 
freedom those solid walls floated away, that small audience became a people, 
and the inspired orator was pleading for the sacred cause of liberty, and the 
wide world was his audience. 

That the writs demanded were wholly unconstitutional and illegal he 
proved with an affluence of learning and a force of reasoning that even prei- 


udice could not resist, and to which there was no reply. The court would 
not pronounce before an audience which had heard the great argument of 
Otis, a decision which that argument had doomed in advance to contempt 
and derision, but they, without pronouncing any judgment or giving any 
reasons, issued their illegal writs of assistance. The decision was of no con- 
sequence ; the great truths had been spoken which were to make a nation 
free. Of that argument scarcely a fragment remains. Some of the phrases 
indeed were remembered then and are remembered still, and the words 
"taxation without representation is but tyranny" were in every man's 

This great cause of the " writs of assistance " was but the opening scene 
of Mr. Otis's career in public life. For ten years he was a member of the 
Colonial Legislature, where the battle of liberty was fought ; he was the 
prophet and the preacher of a new creed, and with his voice and by his pen 
he won the battle of liberty in the hearts and brains of the once loyal colo- 
nists, and prepared the way for the Declaration of Independence and the 
battles of the Revolution. 

Of his speeches in the Provincial Assembly, and his addresses to his 
countrymen in Faneuil Hall, we have few fragments even. The debates in 
the Legislature were with closed doors, until, late in his career, he moved 
and carried the vote for opening the debates to the public. But more ample 
traditions remain of his power as an orator, and of the astonishing effects of 
his eloquence. He was eminently an orator of action, in its widest and 
truest sense. His contemporaries speak of him as "a flame of fire," and 
repeat that phrase as if it were the only one which could express the intense 
passion of his eloquence, the electric flame which his genius kindled, the 
magical power which swayed the great popular assemblies with the irresist- 
ible sweep of the whirlwind. 

This great man who might have been a leader, as he was a pioneer, of 
the Revolution, this patriot who might have been a soldier, this statesman 
who might have been one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence, 
this true patriot and statesman, was the first victim in the strife, the first to 
suffer because he dared to exercise the right of free speech. The British 
regiments had not been quartered in Boston for a twelvemonth when the first 
act of violence and brute force occurred. Mr. Otis had discovered that his 


enemies had written to England accusing - him of high treason. The discov- 

o o o 

eiy of these letters was announced in the newspapers, and Mr. Otis published 
a card denouncing the authors. The next evening he was summoned to go 
to the British Coffee House, on King Street (now State Street), and, un- 
happily, he went alone and unarmed. He found there John Robinson, com- 
missioner of the customs, who was his bitter enemy, and many English 
ofBcers of the army and navy. Mr. Robinson at once commenced an alter- 
cation, soon ending in a violent assault. Suddenly the lights were ex- 
tinguished. What followed is not wholly known. The tumult was heard 
in the streets and a crowd was soon gathered. They stormed the doors, but 
the cowardly assailants had fled by a back passage, leaving the unhappy man 
stunned and bleeding upon the floor. He was not killed, but on his head 
was a dreadful wound, from the consequences of which he never recovered. 
For a time, indeed, it seemed as if his health were restored, but this was 
apparent only ; it was soon evident that his faculties were impaired, and that 
this shock had unsettled his reason, and brought on a train of dangerous 
symptoms which ended at last in hopeless insanity. 

His death was as strange as his life. It is said that during his insanity 
he more than once expressed the wild wish that he might die by lightning, 
and the wild wish was remembered long afterwards. His friends had pro- 
vided a home for him in Andover and he lived there for some years in com- 
parative tranquility. It was summer, the family were all assembled, driven 
to the shelter of the house by an approaching thunderstorm. The air was 
darkened by the gathering clouds ; the whirlwind of dust and the rustling 
leaves fled before the wind ; and then there was an awful lull in the brooding 
tempest. It was the moment of fearful stillness, which listens for God 
walking in the storm. Suddenly there came a terrible crash and a blinding 
glare of livid light in that darkened room. When they recovered from their 
terror they found that he had left them and gone his way. There was no 
sign upon his noble features, there was no mark upon his body, but he was 
dead. That beautiful soul, bound so long to a ruined form, which, like a 
shattered mirror, distorted its pure radiance into the false glitter and wild 
brilliance of insanity, had vanished with the lightning. He died, as he had 
lived, in a storm ; he died, as he had lived, unlike his fellowmen ; he died 
by the Providence of God, but his martyrdom by man had gone long before. 



The characteristic of graduate study is freedom, a freedom that has 
strict, inevitable, acknowledged laws. The freedom of the graduate should 
be the reward of careful, exact work in the undergraduate department; it 
should be the power won by systematic training and honest effort ; it should 
mean the possession of a certain amount of enthusiasm and original thought. 
In order to make the independence of graduate work more assured and more 
worthy, the undergraduate needs, perhaps, a keener appreciation of the pos- 
sibilities and purposes of undergraduate work, a more vital grasp of its sig- 
nificance. The only dictate of graduate to undergraduate work is, " Do your 
work with increasing thoroughness and coherence." As far as possible the 
preparation for graduate work ought to be a long and carefully developed 
process in which all effort and all thought bear on a definite, constant sub- 
ject. The ideal state of things would be for each student to be born with a 
decided preference for one thing, and remain faithful to that first choice, 
doing all work with reference to it and making it her gospel. Lack of co- 
ordination makes graduate work useless. All study ought to be rational and 
progressive, not full of repetition. 

When the student enters upon graduate work she has the advantage of 
previous discipline and acquirement, the more strict and serious her early 
work, the greater her self-command and the more successful her purpose. 
She has also the increasing intellectual capacity and thought stimulus that 
every year of life brings. For the student and thinker there is in any life 
friction, stimulus, and abundant energy. The problems of life pursue her, 
haunt her, perplex her, with a great desire to find some explanation of facts, 
some interpretation of existence, some solution of the many questions. For 
such vague theories, doubts, and questions, graduate study has a most sug- 
gestive answer, for it is the function of graduate study to condense all ab- 
stract speculation into specific investigation. If not the best time, at least a 
very good time, for one to do graduate work is when one is troubled and con- 
fused by many things, as one always is after graduation from college. One 
will get unexpected light on countless things whether one purposes to teach, 
or marry, or be a missionary. If one gets the ideals of scholarship and 
some notion of its sweep and meaning, one will always have a more rational 


view of things, a more precise thought method, a more appreciative sense of 
the great intricate relations that bind together all people of all times. 

The student needs first of all freedom, space, separateness, the oppor- 
tunity of doing her work slowly, thoughtfully, without confusion. The 
necessary freedom is hers. There is no fiat in regard to her time, her plans, 
or her movements. She is individually responsible, subject to her own con- 
science and to her own ideals. There are no forces to compel her to adopt 
any views. She is receptive, waiting, tentative. She makes her own judg- 
ments, deduces her own laws, builds up her own system, criticises and con- 
demns according to her own methods ; hut her one condition for doin°r all 
this is that her judgments be based on the most accurate and most penetrat- 
ing examination of existing facts and theories. Her freedom is subservient 
to the law of scholarship. 

And scholarship is the object and ideal of graduate study. Scholarship 
means breadth of view, a power of connecting things in one great system, a 
fine critical skill in tracing cause and effect ; a synthetic, comprehensive, 
open state of mind. It involves readiness, prompt judgment, quick percep- 
tion, and accui'acy, definiteness, caution, prudence, and unfailing energy. 
Its aim is to get a coherent knowledge of fact, and a well-developed idea of 
the dependence of fact on law. 

The method used in introducing the student to such scholarship aims at 
the development of the individual by a course of rigid application to one 
thing. The student chooses a single subject, one on which she has previously 
spent time and thought, and careful work. Upon that subject she concen- 
trates her whole energy, giving it the closest and most minute study. Spe 
cific detailed work, exhaustive inspection of one thing, that is the purpose 
of graduate study, in order to learn method ; for to know how to treat one 
subject thoroughly is to find laws for the treatment of many subjects. Per- 
haps the greater part of the student's labor is spent over a single period, or 
stage, or aspect of her subject. It is all specialization, condensation, com- 
pression, in order that one thing may be done perfectly as a type and sug- 
gestion for remaining things. 

There is another side to this specific, special pursuit. As well as know- 
ing the one aspect as a type of all aspects, the student sees the largeness of 
the single thing, its endless variety and suggestion. As illustration, take 


the etymology of a single word. A student to be accurate and absolute in 
her judgment must know as far as it can be traced the history of the word's 
root, meaning, use, development. She must be familiar with the views of 
the authorities, English, French, and German. She must collect evidence 
from every side and make her decision from an intelligent comprehension of 
that evidence. In her search is involved, perhaps, the history of .a civiliza- 
tion, the growth of a single letter, the laws of some consonantal or vocalic 
change, a familiarity with the literature in which the appointed word may 
be found. 

To make clear the whole scheme of graduate work take the subject 
" English." The student, in investigating that special subject, regards it as 
one expression of the universal, as a type representative of all types. She 
chooses the English language and literature as the key to the realization of 
the life of the English people. In a study of the development of English 
literature, she traces language from its origins in some far-away people, up 
through the Pre-Germanic to the Old English, and from the Old English to 
our own speech ; she traces the growth of the rude, vague utterances of the 
first speaking creatures into the beautiful and powerful expressions of modern 
English prose and poetry. Her work has a tremendous reach and demand. 
Remembering that without language literature is impossible, she sees that 
the development of language means parallel development of literature; she 
understands that they are indissolubly connected. Her problem is then to 
find what is in English literature. The German philologians have succeeded 
in making three divisions of the student's work. She deals with three things, 
first, the literature in itself, its form (including language) and its content ; 
second, the literature in its historical setting; third, the literature in its 
philosophical relations. In following out these three divisions the student 
must make exhaustive study of literature, as bearing in itself the impress of 
the whole life of the English people. To have an adequate comprehension 
of the literature she must know the individual circumstances connected with 
each bit, as well as the general effects which have been produced by the his- 
torical, philosophical, and religious life of the world surrounding the single 
author. Her investigations carry the student into every department of 
human thought and knowledge, and the possibilities of her work are un- 
limited. She will go into many countries in search of influences forming 


English literature. The requirement of being able to read French and Ger- 
man is distinctly valuable in tracing the foreign influences on English, for 
those are the two lano-ua^es most influential. Moreover, one needs Italian 
if, for instance, one expects to know how much Chaucer was influenced by 
Boccaccio ; and Spanish, if one wants to know the influence of the Spanish 
romantic drama on English. The French and German are absolutely indis- 
pensable, — one needs them for every period in English literature, either for 
immediate comparison or for history and criticism. 

The degree of Doctor of Philosophy, which requires three years of 
graduate study, means two things, — the careful investigation of the facts of 
a subject, arduous study and profound thought on that subject, and an idea 
of its infinite relations and exhaustiveness. More than that the degree means 
a larger conception of life. 

This ideal, which graduate study always insists upon, is rather over- 
whelming. It presents an unlimited front. It is an intellectual ideal of 
perfection and completeness. It is an ideal full of suggestion and truth. 
One would not like to miss its inspiration. 

Martha Hale Shackford, '96. 


The variety of age and rank considered, we are a most united family. 
We are often moved simultaneously by a common impulse, especially at 
luncheon-time. On many an occasion, one taste serves for all of us, as, for 
instance, when the Major has one orange left, or when the laundry hour 
draws near. It is precisely of this last indication of our single-thoughted- 
ness that I am going to speak. 

On Monday morning the family, with one notable exception, proceeds 
en masse to the lower regions, — lower regions being the term now used for a 
certain cluttered area marked, as to its atmosphere, by a mingled odor of 
boiled ham and burning linen. Speaking officially, Kadamanthus swings 
wide the door at nine o'clock, and we troop down as eagerly' as if "the air 
nimbly and sweetly recommended itself unto our gentle senses." Speaking 
Mosaically, an entrance can be effected much earlier. For Moses, law-giver 
as she is, respects no law herself. Deis volentibus or not, while the rest of 


the family chants its matins, she betakes a stealthy way thither. Not that 
she has ever explained the how or the when, not that she has confessed in 
tears that descensus Averno proved all too easy for her. But we are sure, 
notwithstanding, of both the time and the method. She and the Major 
appropriate the entire apparatus before a certain other member of the 
family has gathered together her array of handkerchiefs from the couches, 
desks, and pockets of her friends. Far be it from me to produce the par- 
ticular bit of evidence to prove this point. 

As you may have gathered, Moses did not earn her title because 
she is meek, neither did she get it because she looked meek. We 
dubbed her one cool, dark night some months ago. (But that is quite 
another story.) Moses is small and of an unobtrusive muscle. But she 
has the hardest little arm and the most expressive foot in all creation. It 
was the Crank who found that out when she marched up to Moses and tried 
to remove her " gently but firmly " from her ill-got appliances. That vigor- 
ous creature, clutching her board with a lusty grip and springing backward 
against the enemy, stepped squarely upon the Crank's shoe. The latter 
sank down upon one of the three bottomless chairs. " There's language in 
her lip, her eye ; nay — her foot speaks," she groaned. 

You might fancy from this anecdote that it is the Crank's calling to run 
our domestic machinery. Far from it. She is in too much of a whirl on her 
own account, moving about upon the boards, if the Major and Moses let her 
have any, with great skill and agility. However, she does the family a good 
turn in one particular. She, and she alone, suppresses the Cardinal. The 
Cardinal is a facetious individual. The Crank does not think so. That is 
because she believes in a thoroughly different kind of facetiousness, — namely, 
her own. The Cardinal has a dreadful habit. She is addicted to the use of 
conundrums, — weak, impossible conundrums. The Crank said once that 
they were as stale as the top slice of bread. This witticism had the diaboli- 
cal effect of "remindino;" the Cardinal of an ancient gem. "Heard the 
story about the bread?" queried she, with great buoyancy. The Crank 
heaved a sigh. The Individual from Pennsylvania came to the rescue. 
" I haven't. Tell it tome." " Stale," shrieked the Cardinal in an agony 
of delight. " Oh, well, tell it anyway," says the Individual from Pennsyl- 
vania. And she is waiting yet. The Major, like the Individual, occasion- 


ally says an encouraging word to the Cardinal, or tries to. The Major has 
one failing, — vocabulary. She has been with us only since September, but 
she has struggled with new and bis; words ever since. It was when the 
Cardinal had finished the effort related above that the Major turned politely 
to say " Haven't you any other pieces in your repository ?" I think even the 
Individual from Pennsylvania saw that. 

The Major would probably have wept at the laugh we raised if the 
Debtor hadn't entered just then with the morning mail. The Debtor is 
" within our midst" infrequently. That is because she does not like to join 
gatherings where every person is a reminder of value received and not paid 
for. She had a goodly number of letters. Three she turned over to the 
Major, who straightway forsook all and followed them. The Debtor distrib- 
uted the rest, and then sat down on the chair that supported one end of the 
Major's ironing board. She looked quizzically at a handful of bills. 
"Don't need to open that. Can't be deceived on a Bailey superscription. 
Here's Christian Association dues, and here's the dear Class boat. That 
boat'll be the death of me yet." 

A crack, a slide, a thud, and she is on the floor, the ironing board 
on her head. She clutches wildly for assistance, and grabs Minor's skirts, 
who comes tumbling after. The Major, the Cardinal, and Moses rush 
to the ruins. "Smoking ruins," observes the Crank, shaking the water 
from her hands. True enough. The Major's deserted iron has burned quite 
through her handkerchief. A tear gathers in the Major's gentle eye. 
" My seventh offense," she sobs, brokenly. The Debtor, extricated from the 
bottom of the heap, takes fire. " Think of me ! Weep for me ! I'll teach 
you to batter my skull and rob me of my legs and then hold a funeral service 
over a paltry handkerchief." The Debtor dips her hand into the Crank's tub, 
and flirts a handful of water "right in the lady's face." The attacked dashes 
for a dipper, and fills it from the faucet at Moses's tub. The Debtor creeps 
to -the Cardinal, who stands enveloped in a cloud of steam. The Major's 
broadside includes her, the Crank, and the Individual from Pennsylvania. 
Make for the door, Major ! Up, up, the steps ! Behind the range, Debtor ! 
There's H 2 to pay, and Neptune's roused again. 

A. J. S., '99. 



Have you ever been into the home of a poor family in a large city ? 
No? Well, then, suppose you take a peep with me at such a home. 

Two summers ago a little girl from an almost destitute family in the 
city spent a week with me. The story of that week would take much too 
long a time for me to tell now, so I shall pass over it. Since then I have 
not seen Annie, — for that is my little girl's name, — so I determined that this 
year I would take in the Christmas bundle myself. As Annie's address was 
somewhat uncertain, and partook of the nature of a variable, it seemed best 
to take with me my cousin Albert, — of whom Annie had been fond, — to help 
me decide where the present limit of this variable was. We hunted the 
whole length of "A" Street before we found our number, and even then our 
trials were not at an end, for we shivered and shook on the doorstep fully 
five minutes before any one came to receive us. At last a most dishevelled 
old woman opened the door and, on our asking for Mrs. Jones, scuttled 
down a flight of stairs without saying a word to us. We, however, took 
advantage of the open door and stepped inside. The house in which we 
found ourselves had once been a handsome place, but had descended in the 
scale as the resident portion of the city changed its center. (Remember 
that I am not taking you on a visit to a " slum" house, but merely to one of 
a very poor family. Indeed, the residents of this street wax indignant 
enough if it is called "the slums.") 

The hall was fairly clean, but the air held the most peculiar odor com- 
pounded of all manner of smells. One, in particular, predominated, — that 
of fat and fried food. Indeed, the whole place seemed impregnated with it, 
and I did not wonder when I remembered that Annie had not known either 
lamb or steak by sight, even ; and had said that all the meat she ever had 
was fried ham or, occasionally, some corned beef. 

But I have kept you waiting for almost as long a time as Mrs. Jones 
detained us. After she had called down many blessings on our heads for 
coming, conversation lagged. I wondered why she did not take us down to 
her rooms while she stood looking at us. After repeated questioning on my 
part I discovered that Albert was an insuperable objection in Mrs. Jones' 
eyes, for all the children were abed, as she herself was busy, and thei'e they 


were safely out of her way. Under such circumstances Albert could not be 
allowed down stairs, and poor Mrs. Jones did not know what to do. This 
was a problem very easy for me to solve, for I promptly left Albert sitting 
on the stairs and went down into what had once been the basement dining 
room of this house. Now it was partitioned into two rooms ; the first was 
the kitchen, the next the bedroom and dining room. Dark, gloomy, and 
unpleasant the rooms were. The little kitchen was almost filled by the 
stove, bureau, table, and the sink. The last named was in the darkest 
corner and was not larger than a good-sized platter. But the next room 
was the sight ! It was of medium size only, but in it one could find anything' 
and everything. In the middle of the room stood the dining table, with dry 
bread and unsavory looking butter dangerously near the kerosene lamp. In 
one corner was a double bed, containing Annie and her two-year-old sister. 
Across the foot of this came another large bed with the two boys in it. 
Eveiything was in general confusion, and impressed upon me the fact which 
Mrs. Jones had been trying most vigorously to imprint on my mind ; 
namely, that she had been very busy and had not had time in which to 
"tidy up." 

When I came in there was a squeal and wriggle of delight from Annie 
and the boys at seeing " Miss Alice" with a bundle. Annie started to jump 
out of bed to meet me, but retreated rather precipitately under the clothes 
ao-ain when she remembered that her nightdress was nothing more than her 
undervest. After I had answered many questions, such as where had I been 
and where were all my family, and was I not married or engaged yet, I had 
finally a chance to ask some for myself. All that could be obtained from the 
boys was grunts, grins, and " yes, ma'ams." 

As it was the day before Christmas we spoke of Santa Claus and his 
visit. "Jimmy " found his tongue then, and announced the fact that there 
was no " Santy Claus," but that it was his mother. When I objected on 
the score that the presents most certainly came down the chimney and that 
his mother was much too stout even to start at the top, much less to slide 
down to the ground floor by means of the chimney, this wise boy decided to 
meditate on this difficulty. I believe he determined finally that he had made 
a mistake and that my objection held. 

Annie had a grievance which was caused by the fact that she could not 


see "Mr. Albert." So she begged us to do our shopping and then come 
back again, when her mother would have the room and the children in order. 
I consented, and went upstairs to find Albert sitting on the stairs as I had 
left him, with this difference, that he was almost frozen and looked the pic- 
ture of despair, — waiting for me while I visited did not appeal to him. 

We finished our shopping and hurried back to "A" Street. I must 
confess that the red and white candy canes up-town fascinated us so much 
that we had to buy four, and it seemed wise to procure a stock of other 

We had no sooner rung the bell this time than we heard Annie running 
up stairs and we were escorted in state into her house. At this second visit 
the children were up, the beds made, and the room in order. Now we 
could plainly see that we were not in "the slums," for Mrs. Jones had 
things clean and knew what order meant. We had been seated about five 
minutes when we were urged to have some cake and tea. I, thinking of 
the very dark corner of the kitchen in which the sink was and of the doubt- 
ful cleanliness of the dishes, refused ; but such a disappointed look came 
over Mrs. Jones's face that I reconsidered hastily and said we would be 
delighted. Now, both Albert and I loathe tea, and would drink it of our 
own accord just as soon as we would take a concoction of wormwood. 
When the cake appeared our hearts sank. It was a baker's mixture of the 
worst kind — yellow as gold, spotted with raisins. I suppose they were put 
in to relieve the monotony of the vivid yellow. Albert and I arranged that 
he should do duty to the cake, while I attended to the tea. I nearly laughed 
out loud when they brought him a huge cup full of tea and me a most gor- 
geous pink cup containing very little tea. I cannot describe the cake any 
more fully than by saying that I never want to experience similar sensations 
to those that I had while eating it. But the tea ! Black as ink, more bitter 
than any medicine it was, and when the blue milk had been added to it the 
resulting color was, to put it mildly, queer. Between us we ate three pieces 
of cake and drank three cups of tea. Then we ran for the train, and won- 
dered how much poison we had taken into our systems, or how many germs 
we had swallowed. 

The pleasure that Mrs. Jones and Annie had had more than repaid us. 
It was pitiful to think that what had cost us so little time and money could 


give such an amount of pleasure. If you could have seen the white faces of 
the children and heard the mother thank us for having given her little girl 
one bright week in her life. Or, if you could have heard Annie say, " Oh, 
Miss Alice, the city is terrible. It don't seem as if I could stand the noise 
and horrid people. But didn't I have the grand time in Sheffield ! " Poor 
Annie ! She thinks all people in Sheffield are good because those whom she 
met were so kind to her. Even her hard city life has not taken away her 
trust in people. 

We left candy enough to make the entire family ill, but we are soothing 
our consciences now by the knowledge that never before have the Jones 
children been ill from eating too much of anything, and we are positive that 
it will do them actual good to have this feeling once in their lives. The only 
question is, have we started them on the road toward gluttony. I leave that 
question with you ; for an answer, go see the children two days after 

Frances E. Hildreth, '95. 


Frost and fragrance breathe their spice 

Through sunbeams mellow ! 
Blight and bareness sheathe their sight 

In daffies yellow ! 

Breeze and whirlwind sweep the earth 

With raptures antic ; 
Grayness shivers at its roots 

In throes gigantic. 

Lilac rims the sky's lost blue, 

Grim forms revealing ; 
Day's reach lengthens in that hue, 

A promise sealing ! 

Alice L. Brewster, '89. 


In the cellar the three crouched low behind the rough boarding that 
hedged in the coal bin. Teddy couldn't settle himself comfortably among 


the coals, so every few minutes Fan gave him a little pinch to quiet him. 
Nell was doubled up in the farthest corner, peering through a crack between 
the boards out into the semi-darkness. 

"Keep still," she whispered, as Teddy wriggled painfully. "I know 
it's somebody now." 

"Pooh ! you said that before. Why didn't you get Ruth, too, Fan?" 
asked Teddy in a husky voice, which was a poor attempt at a whisper. 

" Sh ! I told her to come on, we were going to have some fun, but 
she wouldn't. She's smoothing mamma's hair. I guess mamma's got a 
headache. Sh ! What's that?" 

Some one was really coming. The door at the top of the cellar stairs 
opened, and they heard Ruth's voice calling, "Teddy ! Fan ! Mamma wants 
you." Then the door shut again, and they giggled delightedly. 

"Isn't this fun ? She hasn't the least idea where we are." 

They had to keep on saying, "Isn't this fun?" to assure themselves 
that they were really enjoying it, for there is very little excitement about a 
dark, lonely cellar and a lumpy coal bin. 

"Isn't it most night, don't you s'pose?" suggested the cramped Teddy. 

"Teddy," cried Fan, angrily, "if you want to, you can go upstairs 
right now, and tell mamma you've been playing round at Willie Marston's. 
Nell and I are going to stay and have some fun." 

"I don't think it's much fun," sighed Teddy, "but I'm going to stay." 

At last there came a cheerful slam of the front door, a man's step 
sounded overhead, and presently the sound of approaching voices floated 
down . 

"No, I'm sure they're not down there, Fred, fori sent Ruthie down 
an hour ago to see. They've been gone ever since three o'clock, and it's 
getting dark. I'm so worried." 

"All right. I'll just take a look to make sure." 
> "That's papa," choked Fan. "Now it's coming. Teddy, if you 
make a sound, we'll never let you play with us again, never!" 

The steps came nearer, some one struck a match, lighted the gas, and 
peered carefully all about the cellar. He passed close to the coal bin and 
glanced in, looking, as it seemed to three pairs of eyes, straight at the 
crouching figures. Fan was ready to gasp out some desperate excuse, but 


fear stopped her breath and checked discovery, for her father went on up- 
stairs with a perplexed frown. 

"I don't see where the little rascals are," they heard him say as the 
door closed behind him. For a while the three conspirators were very silent. 
Then the restless Teddy began to cry softly. " He'll whip us ; I know he 
will," he sobbed. 

" Well, I wouldn't be a baby," said the stoical Nell. "Of course he'll 
whip us, but we ain't going just yet anyway." 

" What's the good of staying any longer?" Teddy stopped crying to 

"The coal isn't very comfortable," said Fan. She was tired, too, but 
she saw the necessity of yielding slowly. As the eldest of the four children 
she always took the lead in all games or disputes. She was beginning to 
feel more subdued, and there was a funny little lump in her throat, but she 
said to herself that this came from whispering so much ; just now she must 
certainly maintain discipline. 

" You two can go if you want," with a mild scorn in her tone that held 
her subjects to their places more effectively than much persuasive argument. 
" 1 shan't stir till the front doorbell rings again, I don't care how long I 
have to wait; and if you're tired I know what I'll do. I'll tell you about 
'The Fair with Golden Hair.' Once upon a time there lived a princess with 
golden hair that hung all the way to the ground. She was so beautiful 
that " 

The doorbell rang. 

"There!" shouted Teddy, jumping up and forgetting all about the 
story. "You said you'd go if it rang." 

"Don't make such a racket," cautioned Fan. "We'd better go up as 
if we'd just come in from outdoors." 

So three innocent-looking children crept quietly upstairs to the library 
and stood in embarassed silence till their mother looked up and gave a cry 
of surprise and relief. 

" Where have you been?" questioned the father, sternly. 

"Oh, we've been playing," ventured Fan, with doubtful assurance, 
while Nellie looked as if she didn't care, and Teddy began to cry again. 
" We didn't know it w r as so late." 


" Your mother has been nearly worried to death. What's that black 
on your face, Teddy? Why, you've been in the coal Inn." 

Fan went to bed in stony silence and utter disregard of Ruth's appealing 

"Were you really in the cellar?" the younger girl at last asked, 

" Yes," said Fan. " Weren't you smart not to be able to find us? I 
s'pose you think we're awfully bad, but I don't care. It was real fun." 

"What did they do to you?" 

"Nothing. Mamma wouldn't let papa whip us. He wanted to, be- 
cause we made her head ache. She made us say our prayers to her and ask 
God to forgive us. I wish they'd whipped us instead. I don't want to be 
forgiven, and I'm not sorry." 

After which coherent speech Fan cried herself to sleep. 



Ellen McKay stood in the stuffy little kitchen, ironing. She had 
placed her board before the one narrow window that she might catch what- 
ever breeze was stirring. Little enough of any breeze she was likely to get, 
for the leaves of the peach tree just outside the window scarcely moved, and 
within, the stove heated the tiny kitchen until it was almost unbearable. 
Through the open window she could see the brown, parched country stretch- 
ing away for miles and miles to the far-off sky line. The low clumps of 
willows along the Fork seemed the only fresh green things in all that barren 
country side, and even they were heavy and white with dust from the river 
road. Two hawks circled and swung with lazy, monotonous sweeps up in 
the clear blue, and on a mullein stock by the fence a butterfly rested with 
folded wings, as if he, too, had lost heart like all the rest of the world. 

The girl was not thinking of the country spread out before her. She 
had seen it all so often before; she knew the turn of every crooked fence, 
and the shape of every tree. She pushed her iron backward and forward 
over the coarse clothes, hardly knowing or caring what she was doing. Once 
when her eyes flooded with tears and her lips trembled, she sat down for a 


moment at the kitchen table, her head bowed on her clenched hands. But 
when she rose again, and went on resolutely with her work, there were no 
traces of tears on her cheeks. 

It was late afternoon when the weary work was finished, but Ellen did 
not stop to rest, although she looked wistfully toward the little, darkened 
parlor. With its light matting, and its slippery haircloth furniture, it was 
ugly enough, measured by some standards, but Ellen loved it for the sake of 
the mother who had arranged and cared for it, — the mother who had died 
eight years before. She turned away from the little room, and began to 
prepare supper with a sort of fierce energy, as if she were afraid of herself 
and the weakness she had shown in the afternoon. 

After a while she heard her father's heavy footstep along the walk and 
up the steps. She went quickly to the window to see whether he had been 
drinking, but when he looked up at her, clear-eyed, she turned to the door 
to meet him. 

"He hasn't come back, then, Ellen?" the man asked, as she took his 
dinner pail from him. 

"Not yet, father. Haven't they heard anything of him in town ? Noth- 
ing at all?" she questioned anxiously. 

" Nothin' at all." He touched her thick brown hair gently, yet half- 
fearfully, with his big, rough hand, as she stood before him. " I asked 
everywhere, but the police 'ain't had no clue yet." 

"He'll come back, father; surely to-morrow he'll come;" but she 
looked out of the window into the gathering twilight, almost hopelessly. 

Her father tried to soften his coarse voice as he spoke : " You're gettin' 
paler every day, little girl. It 'ain't so hard on me, bein' away all day, 
workin' ; but you're here alone, with Robbie's things 'round ; " he glanced at 
the boy's coat hanging against the wall, and the old fishing-rod in the corner. 

The girl replied quickly, " I want Robbie's things where he left them, 
so they'll be ready an' waitin' for him when he comes home again." 

" You're so sure he'll come, Ellen." He stopped for a minute, but, as 
his daughter moved away, he caught at her apron to hold her near him. 

"Do you think, Ellen, after what I said to him, — after the way I hit 
him,— that he'll" 

"Yes, father," she said, slowly, striving to keep her voice from trend- 


bling, " I'm sure he'll come back ; he's only ten years old ; an' we loved each 
other so." 

The little brother was all the girl had to love. For eight years 
she had bound up his bruised and bleeding fingers, kissed away his tears, 
helped him with his lessons, and cared for him in all the tender little ways 
she knew. She had hoped that he might not miss wholly the sweet mother- 
love that she had known for a little while, but which had been so early 
denied to him. Now, when a torrent of harsh words and an angry blow 
from his half-drunken father had sent the hot-tempered child away, although 
nearly a week had passed, she was still sure that the runaway would return ; 
but her eyes had begun to wear a hungry, helpless look, for the waiting was 
so hard. 

The great, broad-shouldered man, with his foolish woman's heart and his 
weakly yielding will, was half afraid of this daughter of his, who never 
fiinched when he stormed at her, nor wept, as he expected she would, when 
he came home half sobered, in tearful repentance. To-night, as they ate 
their little meal, Ellen tried to talk to him, but the lapses of silence 
were I0112; and disheartening. The girl's thoughts were not with the words 
she spoke, and Henry McKay was uncomfortable in her presence. He felt, 
in his stupid, thick-headed way, that somehow his daughter and he were on 
different planes, and he on the lower. And this is not a pleasant thing for 
any man to think. 

Later in the evening, when her father was smoking his pipe out on the 
little back porch, Ellen finished her work, and stole into the tiny parlor. 
She opened the shutters of the window which looked out on the road, and 
sat down in one of the stiff haircloth chairs. McKay's cottage was the last of 
a number of little one-and-a-half-storied frame houses on the pike leading 
out from a small town in southern Indiana. It stood alone, apart from its 
neighbors, and the fences which had enclosed the little yard were half broken 
down. There were some straggling geraniums growing in a bed in the midst 
of the grass plot, and two or three peach trees on either side the uneven flag 
walk hung heavy with fruit. The odor of the flowers and the ripe peaches, 
came in with delicious fragrance at the open window where the girl sat, rest- 
ing her elbows on the narrow sill. The full harvest moon lio-hted with al- 
most startling clearness the dusty turnpike which stretched its straight, level 
length between field after field of harvested grain, off into the night. 


In the girl's raincl there was a tumult of memories, — of her own short 
childhood and Robbie's, of her mother's death and her father's worthlessness ; 
memories of Robbie as a baby and as a dear, bright-eyed little boy who fol- 
lowed her about the house, calling her "Mamma Nell," all day long. She 
knew what an aching barrenness her life would have been without the child ; 
but as she yearned to hold him in her arms now, it was not the baby nor the 
prattling child, but the great, long-limbed boy often, with his flashing, defi- 
ant eyes, that she longed for. She bowed her head on her arm, and her 
body shook with a succession of quick, breathless sobs. 

After a little while, when a kitten cried beneath the window, she roused 
herself and opened the door, calling it to her. It caught at her skirts and 
cried again, and she picked it up, glad that she could stroke it gently and 
quiet its cries. She sat down on the doorstep with the tiny, gray creature 
in her arms. A light wind had started up and was stirring the leaves of the 
peach trees. The soft sound of their rustling, and the purring of the little 
kitten, sounded in her ears; the faint, sweet odor of the ripe peaches was all 
about her. 

Perhaps she fell asleep as she sat there ; at any rate she was startled by 
the sound of a buggy stopping before the house. A man jumped out and 
hurried toward her up the walk. He did not notice the girl until he was 
close upon her, then he stopped awkwardly and asked if McKay was at 
home. Ellen went to the back of the house and called to her father, but 
there was no answer, and when she looked for him on the back porch she 
found that he had gone. 

" Father must have gone down the road to one of the neighbors, sir," 
she said, when she returned to the man, who stood nervously balancing his 
hat between his palms. " What did you want? " 

" Oh, are you the boy's sister?" 

" Has Robbie come back?" she cried, dropping the kitten to the ground. 
" Has Robbie come back? Have they found him? Where is he?" 

"Yes," the man replied, " they've found him, and they sent me " 

" Where is he now? Why didn't you bring him? Is he sick or hurt?" 
She peered through the darkness almost wildly, trying to see the expression 
of his face. The kitten cried piteously and brushed against her, but she did 
not notice it. 


"Yes, he has been hurt, — pretty badly," came the abrupt, cruel answer. 
The girl gave a little half cry, and the man went on, " I'll take you into 
town with me, if you'll come ; but we'd better find your father, I guess." 

"No, no, don't stop, — I don't know where he's gone; come, drive fast, 
Robbie's hurt." She ran before him, out to the buggy. Fler dress caught 
on the gate latch, and the man following her heard it tear, as she hurried on. 
She climbed up over the wheel, and he followed quickly, seating himself be- 
side her. 

"Now," she said, when he had turned the horse and they were on their 
way back to the town, "tell me what's happened to Robbie. And, oh, 
please drive faster," she cried, clasping and unclasping her hands. 

He whipped the horse into a gallop and gave him a loose rein. Then 
he told her very briefly, and without attempting to soften the bare, hard 
truth, how the boy had been found, late that afternoon, beside the railway 
track, a little way out of town. Probably he had been stealing a ride and 
had lost his hold, he explained. The body was a good deal crushed, but 
they had carried him into the town to the town hospital, and he was still 
alive. He expected a cry of some sort from the girl beside him, but she sat 
very still, looking with wide-open, terrified eyes, beyond the galloping 
horse's head, up the straight white road, toward the town. 

In a moment they were in the midst of the lights, and the noise, and 
glare of the main street, raising a great cloud of dust behind them, so that 
the children who played along the sidewalks called and shouted after them 
as they passed. The pale, bare-headed girl beside the man was deaf to their 
cries. She heard only the steady beat of the horse's hoofs, and above the 
noise and hurry, a child's voice calling faintly, "Mamma Nell! Mamma 
Nell ! " In another moment the man was lifting her out of the buggy, and 
some one was leading her to where the boy lay. 

The little room was not lighted, but she saw dimly the bed in the cor- 
ner. At the door one of the nurses stopped her. 

" Are you the boy's mother?" she asked, in a whisper. 

" Yes, yes ; let me go to him ! " The girl tried to shake off the hand 
that held her back. 

"I am sorry" — the nurse faltered. " It is too late, now. He died just 
a moment ago." 

Geraldixe Gordox, 1900. 



Bright bit of summer, come before thy time, 

With blue of violets on thy outspread wing, 

How canst thou sit and unconcerned sing 
Thy joyous raptures in this frozen clime? 
"White on the bough that o'er thee swings, a rime 

Of frost reflects thy skyey blue of spring ; 

While upward, soft, melodious, thou dost fling 
Thy notes, as if, forsooth, 'twere summer's prime. 
Hail to thee, bird of promise for the North ! 

Bring us thy hope who here grow chilled with doubt. 
At thy sweet song the first buds venture forth. 

'Neath thy warm blue the snowdrop peepeth out. 
Bright summer bird ! melt all our snows away, 
And turn for us this bleak March into May. 

K. W. T., '99. 


They had been to a " social evening " at the settlement — all four of them — 
and though they had registered for the 9.25, they had decided to wait till 
the 10.10, and finish the Virginia reel. " That will be all right," the Faculty 
had whispered breathlessly to the Senior, as she shot past her from the arms 
of Mrs. Pappenheimar, and as she followed her in the grand march, she 
added, "I told them I didn't think we could make it." So the Senior 
nodded to the Sophomore, who was watching them inquiringly over the bow 
of her violin, and they finished the dance. 

The 10. -10 met the Circuit at Riverside, and connected with the half- 
hour cars at Newton Lower Falls. Not knowing how long they would have 
to wait at Riverside, they stopped at the fruit stand in the station. " Will you 
mind eating on the way?" the Senior asked the Faculty, who promptly pur- 
chased the most daring concoction, put up in small fig boxes. The Senior, 
having a sweet tooth, gravely possessed herself of " new maple sugar," three 
for five, and packed into the same bag the Malaga grapes the little Sopho- 
more couldn't carry with her violin case. She ate only one grape before 
they got to Riverside, and that spoke well for her, for all the others were 


At Riverside they found the Circuit train waiting, and they settled them- 
selves resignedly in the high plush .seats, turning one over so that they could 
face each other and keep from sliding off by bracing knee against knee. 
The Faculty held herself on while the little Sophomore climbed up and stowed 
away her violin case. The other two smoothed out the music roll, and 
dotted it with paper bags. 

" Sure we're right?" mumbled the Senior, with grape seeds between her 
teeth. "You've done this before, Dod ; does this train always strike the 
electrics ? " 

The Junior raised her eyebrows. "You might have asked before you 
got on," she said, "if you wei'en't sure. But I'm perfectly willing to go and 
see," — swallowing a grape and turning to the Faculty, who was laboring over 
the fig boxes. The covers were too tightly fitted, and would not come off. 

"Shall I?" she said. 

The Faculty raised her head. " Perhaps you had better," she smiled, 
" if it isn't too much trouble." 

"Not at all," said the Junior, and rose gracefully from beneath the 
shaky table which the Senior raised for a moment, and passed rapidly down 
the aisle. Her manner of rising and walking off may have accounted for 
the frequency with which she was called upon to do so, and the Senior and 
Sophomore, sitting backward, followed her with their eyes to the door. 

The only other persons in the car were two men, vacantly surveying 
the party. They turned their heads toward the window and watched the 
Junior as she passed outside on the platform. Then they looked back at the 
others. The Senior, twisting her head toward them as she patted in a hair- 
pin with the closed hand which held grape seeds, saw them look out again, 
lift their chins and bend toward the window. In another moment the Junior 
appeared at the door, her native self-possession in the background. 

" Get out ! get out!" she cried, waving her arms. "The electrics 
aren't running and the train 's just going ! " 

She turned like a flash and disappeared. The men were staring open- 
mouthed from the door to the dining seat in the other end of the car. The 
train started. " Oh, oh ! " said the little Sophomore ; " get out ! get out ! " 

" Crawl up for your case," said the Senior, swooping the dishes from 
the table and diving for umbrellas. The Faculty was on her feet discarding 


a trodden lig-box cover. All three rushed for the door ; the little Sopho- 
more's violin case banging against the metal arms of the seats as she passed, 
her short curls standing out straight from her head. The Senior, ducking 
round the corner of the door, heaved herself into the air for a leap to the 
platform, but fell back heavily, with a detaining arm around her throat. 
The conductor had sprung out from the other car. 

" Don't jump ! " he shouted, as if she had been a mile away. " Sure 
death! Train's going ! Can't git off ! " 

He was straddling the car platform as he spoke, encircling the bewil- 
dered Faculty with the other arm, and squeezing the little Sophomore safely 
against the railing with his broad back. "Git back! git back! it's too 
late ! " 

The Junior was tearing frantically along beside the train, skirts in both 
hands. It was her last winter's brown skirt, which is very full. Her little 
brown velvet toque was waving over one ear. 

" Don't leave me," she shrieked. " Jump ! jump ! " The Senior was 
strangling herself over the man's arm, but wriggling downward and toward 
the steps. " We've got to get off! " she choked out. "Let me go ! We 
can jump. She saw the Junior becoming a waving, leaping blot in the 

The man pulled her back with a jerk, and swung the little Sophomore 
into the car again with a hoist of his knee. The Faculty he handled more 
carefully with his right arm, and deposited her likewise inside, then fervidly 
embraced his remaining charge with both arms. 

"Come back here," he said, smiling broadly. "Don't you know 
enough not to jump? I'll git ye off." 

Pushing her before him into the car, he jumped for the rope and pulled 
it. A man opened the opposite door. 

" Stop the train," he yelled to him. " One of these has jumped and 
now the others want to. They've got to git off." 

The Faculty straightened her hat and smoothed down the wrist of her 
glove. Then she leaned against the door and laughed. The Senior, red in 
the face, was still breathing hard, but she laughed, too. " I dropped some- 
thing," she said. The little Sophomore, who had not taken her wild-eyed 
stare off the conductor's face, broke into a helpless giggle. Her curls flew 


into her eyes as she shook her head at the violin case. " Liebe, liebe ! " she 
said, patting it. 

The train was slowing up and stopped some distance down the track. 
The conductor helped them down with great carefulness. " Don't never 
jump," he said, solemnly, to the Senior, who was the last to leave. " Sure 
death ! " 

" All trains won't stop," she said, taking a long breath, and thanked him 
with a cake of maple sugar. And that was a good deal for her to do, for 
the Faculty had begun on one, another had jumped when she didn't, and she 
had only gotten five cents' worth. 

She fell into line with the Faculty, and they walked jerkily back over 
the ties. The Sophomore had left them on a run, both arms around her 
violin case. As they came nearer they saw her drop it on the platform, sit 
hastily down upon it, her curly head between her hands. 

A dejected figure drooped out of the waiting room. Her toque fell still 
further earward as she caught sight of the little squatting figure in the 
middle of the platform. She threw up her arms and rushed forward. 

" Oh, Mattie, Mattie ! " gurgled the little Sophomore, as they met. 

The other two came up with the greatest deliberation. " Poor Dod ! " 
said the Senior, standing her umbrellas up against the station wall as she 
straightened the toque, " were you having a good time? " 

The Junior's eyebrows went up again and her mouth broadened. " You 
dropped the grapes," she said. 

Then they waited for the 11.20. '98. 



On a Saturday night, when the winds howled in their usual inspiringly 
cheerful manner, the magazine board sat in its sanctum, ruminative, 
despondent. Before it on the editorial desk lay this letter : — 

"To the Editor of the Magazine: 

Owing to a sickness in my family, I cannot send you the leading article 
for the coming number of the magazine. 

With sincere regret, 

N. O. Goode." 


"Miss Bragg, Miss Wright, and Miss Doolittle have all promised 
stories," said a hopeful literary editor, offering a stray crumb of comfort. 
"Perhaps we can do without a leading article." 

The editor in chief whirled slowly around on her revolving chair, and 
winked with due deliberation at the associate. 

"Miss Wright has left college, Miss Bragg says she can't and won't, 
and Miss Doolittle has the measles." 

"Very well," chimed in literary editor number two, whose disposition 
is buoyant enough to save her from a watery grave. "There are five of us, 
and we have from now till Tuesday. We will each write a story and send 
it in with our regular work." 

The associate groaned. "I have a paper and a special topic to be done 
over Sunday, and the editorials aren't touched yet. Can't possibly." 

"Four stories, then," said the inexorable chief. 

Here the junior member put in a despairing voice: "My brief, you 
know — " and the chief assented silently and sympathetically. "That 
leaves three, anyway," said the associate, tentatively. 

"Oh, Ethel can't, of course; she's been ill for a week, and it's too 
much to ask of her. You and I will have to do it. The good-natured 
chief beamed cheerfully on the hitherto buoyant literary editor. 

"I was thinking you'd have to let me off. You see I've got the book 
reviews and exchanges both this time." Thus did the forlorn, hope pour 
forth her woes. The last support taken away, the chief whirled round to 
the desk, dipped a pen in ink, and waved it at the downcast four. "Clear 
out," she said. 

Then she reflected. Calamity : the leading article and three stories 
gone at one fell swoop without warning. Material for the magazine : one 
poem from the R. C, a brief sketch, two impossible daily themes, energy, 
hope. The ten o'clock bell rang. With the stroke came a swift resolution. 
The editor dropped her pen, stole down the dim-lit corridor, and paused 
outside a door to gaze doubtingly at the light reflected from the transom. 
She knocked gently. The care-worn faculty within was still up, seated at 
her desk, poring over two huge tomes. The black rings under her eyes 
bespoke weariness ; her mouth was hard with nervous resolution. There 
came a hurried colloquy, swift refusal, altercation, sympathy, and hesitation ; 


at last hard-won consent. The leading article was secure, and for the re.^t 
there were still forty-eight hours left. With a lighter heart, the editor 
sought her room and the consolation of a fountain pen. Her light burned 
late, and I regret to say that she did not go to church next morning. 
Tuesday the magazine manuscript went off on the early mail, and promptly 
at the appointed time the new number appeared. 

Comments there were of course. The associate editor overheard two 
critical girls in the hall one day : — 

"Who on earth is Mary Stone? She writes well, but I never heard 
of her. Evidently a dark horse recently come to light." 

"But don't you think her style is remarkably like the writer of that 
other stoiy, 'X Y Z, '98?' If those two stories had been freshman themes 
I should say there had been cheating done." 

"Do you think so?" said the first. "Why, I thought 'XYZV was 
a good deal more like that other written by ' Nescio Quam.' How foolish 
it is, anyway, not to sign your own name ! " 

However, the magazine came out. 



The self-same advice, warning, and encouragement has been given 
year after year to each new incoming Board of Editors by each old outgoing- 
Board of Editors. We feel much like the revised illustration of a personified 
worn and bent Old Year, who steps out of the road to make way for the 
cherubic happy-faced New Year. Last year we took our places with dutiful 
minds, new pens, and large expectations of the scope for our critical 
abilities. In our ignorant young enthusiasm we spoke of the discretion 
to be used in accepting literary productions. Much of such material as we 
had seen in the Magazine pages was to be thrown into the wastebasket. 
We would demand better stories, brighter sketches, more poetic poems. 
We would raise the standard of The Wellesley Magazine to a height 
hitherto undreamed of. Then for three weeks we sat with ink-dipped pen 
and empty wastebasket waiting. 

One gray morning we awoke to the consciousness that the April 
number must go to press in a week, and as yet material was not. We left 
our pens and our wastebasket, we put on our most winning smile and our 
company manners, and went forth into the highways and hedges to glean. 
Our souls stooped from the exaltation of high resolve to snatch at whatever 
was offered. And that wasn't much. Then with humble minds we went 
back to our "den" to look at the material once so scornfully tossed aside, 
which the '97 Board had bequeathed us. Final result : the April Magazine, 
and a wiser Board. 

The chief critical ability that you will need to bring to your task is to 
be used on people's characters and characteristics. The ability to choose 
from amongst the mass of those who can write and won't, and those who 
can't and will, that rare and elusive bird who can and will, is an important 
requisite for the editorial chair. (And we have a chair now, you know, as 
well as a desk.) But, above all, it is our earnest hope that you have the 
art of begging gracefully and successfully. For it is certainly true that 
the mendicant's staff and wallet would be a fitter symbol of editorial duties 
than pen and wastebasket. 

But since some information is, if not a useful, at least the customary 


gift of the retiring Board, we make haste to do our neglected duty. The 
usual reservoir of material from which all sorts of literary productions flow 
is made up of freshman themes, sketches from English, and the occasional 
stories turned out by the daily theme class. But here accept a warn- 
ing. Don't print daily themes ; or if you really must, call them by some 
other name, — sketches, episodes, outlines in local color, or even jottings, in 
a properly re-hashed and furbished-up condition. At all odds they must lose 
superficial resemblance to the grand order of themes. Here the much-endur- 
ing college public plants its foot and stubbornly cries, "No more of these." 

As to leading articles — here emotion would overcome us. The consti- 
tution of The Wellesley Magazine declares that there must be a leading 
article, presumably of learned and weighty import. In consequence, there is a 
leading article. But oh, the meaning in that little sentence, the hard-earned 
promise wrung from busy alumna or obliging faculty, the days of doubt and 
suspense before the MS. appears, the letter of inquiry, finally renewed 
hope as an answer comes, — but alas ! pleading overwork, asking delay. At 
length we clasp the belated but joy-bringing roll to our bosom, then clap it 
into an envelope and send it post haste to the printer. The Magazine 
appears a trifle late, but freighted w r ith that eagerly sought, much-read lead- 
ing article. We would say, however, that the surest plan for eventually 
o-ettino' these desirable articles is to have, for each number of the Magazine, 
at least three promised to arrive two months before they are needed. Two 
of these will certainly be lost on the road, for though we would not, without 
definite proof, impugn the honesty of postmasters along the route, the non- 
arrival of the wished-for package arouses our doubts. The weight of the 
manuscript must cause a suspicion of the real value of the contents. In no 
other way can we explain these mysterious disappearances. 

After all, however, experience will teach you far more than we ever 
could. We applaud your zeal and determination, and wish you such un- 
bounded success that your farewell address next March may sound a new 
and triumphant note. 


If the Magazine Board is ever in danger of estimating its own worth 
too highly, it has only to look back on the many years when it was not. 


Nearly a dozen graduating classes pursued their serene and untroubled paths 
without the help or hindrance of a college publication. It was the custom 
then for the Natick Couvant to devote a column or two of its weekly issue 
to college news furnished by some busy but obliging faculty. In the latter 
eighties the duty fell into the hands of the students. Behold, then, the shift 
to which they were put, these forerunners of a later Board. The Courant 
was willing to devote two pages of its weekly issue to the needs of Wellesley 
students. Contributions to this quasi-supplement took the form of abstracts 
of sermons, notices of lectures, the weekly bulletin, etc. 

Occasionally there was an attempt at an appreciation or essay, once in 
a while a poem came fluttering before the world in these newspaper columns. 
The editorial, too, was there gathering strength and assurance for the fu- 

Then in 1889, hesitating yet eager for new responsibilities, the students 
elected an editorial board and founded a college organ under the suggestive 
and prophetic name of the " Prelude." The literary activity of the college, 
like a timid but thriving new-hatched chick, was uttering a feeble chirp on 
its own account. The pin-feathers of the youngster grew apace, he devel- 
oped great crowing propensities, and threatened rapid development into 
roosterdom. The "Prelude" was a news sheet issued weekly throughout 
the academic year, and contained the usual features of such an organ, the 
brief congratulatory editorial, college notes, an occasional "Question Wor- 
thy of Discussion," which helped wonderfully to fill up space, and a few re- 
fined jokes under the title of " Waban Ripples." In 1891, after two years 
of successful growth, the "Prelude" began to issue in addition a monthly 
number more literary in its tone than the weekly news sheet. The new at- 
tempt was so popular that the earlier weekly issue ran through its short life 
with the year, and having fulfilled its mission, gave place in October, 1892, 
to The Wellesley Magazine. A board of eiffht literary and two manag- 
ing editors inaugurated the new departure with the highest hopes. They 
spoke enthusiastically, " With the persistency of a phoenix The AYellesley 
Magazine arises from the ashes of former publications. For the third time 
in five years the creature spreads its wings for flight, a longer, and since we 
believe in progress, let us hope, a better flight." A constitution was 
adopted, the leading article became an established fact. The Free Press was 


opened to contributors. For six years the Magazine has developed along 
the lines marked out by its founders, and once more the editors regretfully 
lay down their pens to give place to the new order of things and the seventh 
Editorial Board. 


When a college girl has completed the required work in English, per- 
haps as a general thing she heaves a sigh of relief and embarks upon her 
senior year, thankful no more themes or forensics need be written. With 
papers and special topics she has her hands full. It is, however, to the girls 
who want something more, that this chance shaft is thrown in the hope of 
meeting some faint response. We submit that literary training of a high 
order does come from the course in daily themes open to seniors. That it 
meets the expectations of many is evident from the number who take the 
course each year. But we think, nay we feel sure, that there is an impor- 
tant minority who would appreciate and enjoy another kind of course. Even 
if perfection in detail and carefully finished style is gained from writing these 
numerous short themes, one is inclined to wonder if more strength and mas- 
tery would not come from continued practice at more ambitious writing. 
How many of these perfect trifles, gems though they be, does the writer look 
back on with the sense of something accomplished? Or, if you scoff not at 
the material, how many are fit for publication? We wonder then if it would 
not be possible to open a course for fuller literary training. Admission 
might be by invitation or by application. The work done might be merely 
story writing, the descriptive magazine article, or the appreciative essay. 
We have now a rhyming club which is doing in the way of poetry what we 
would like to see tried in prose. 


This is an answer on behalf of the "Busy" signs to the slur cast upon 
them in the January Magazine. " As an evil that goes with rushing through 
dinner" we may justly " regret them," but as sureties of an unbroken hour 
or two they are quite the opposite of such evils. If it were more our custom 
at Wellesley to work when we were working, we should find that the cry of 


being overworked would cease to be, and the results of our labor would be 
better worth while. One of the best aids to this is the "Busy" sign, for 
though it is doubtless stupid of our friends not to detect the atmosphere of 
deep thought that surrounds us when at work on a paper, yet seldom do 
they rise above such stupidity, and the necessity of the exertion of moving 
from the place they are in makes them slow to act when they have perceived. 
Two or three absolutely uninterrupted hours of work will give better results 
than as many evenings of half hours sandwiched in between calls. It isn't 
that we don't want the calls, but it is that if we will take some time for 
"nothing but work" we shall find that we double the time, not only for 
them, but for coasting and sleeping, too. Like other good things, the 
"Busy" signs are doubtless abused, but it is not just to mark them all as 
indications that their owners are taking life " very seriously " without im- 
plying that it may be very sensibly, too. 

F. H. K., '99. 


The fiction of the month, with a few exceptions, is not so strong as it 
was last month. The prize story in the Vassar Miscellany, " And Showed 
me that Great City," seems to us hardly to merit its reputation. It is novel, 
with a certain freshness of tone, but hardly of the grade we would expect a 
prize offered by the Miscellany to produce. 

In the Yale Courant, "Biggs of the Curoca " is well told, also "The 
Upper Casement," in the Nassau Lit. Two interesting stories appear in the 
Amherst Lit., — "A System of Free Delivery," and "Two Sons of One 
House." In the Williams Lit. we find decidedly the best work " Sic itur 
ad astra," in interest and force is above the average, while "The Leper" is 
quite as original and striking. "Out of Meeting" and "Sweet Brier," in 
the Mount Holyoke, are both dainty and well done. 

We notice a preponderance of sketchy material in all the magazines. It 
seems to us that unless a short theme is very well worked up, it is hardly 
worth while. To confine it to a certain department, as is done by the 
Smith Monthly, and a few others, gives it a little more weight ; but to scatter 
it indiscriminately through the magazine means, in our eyes, to weaken it, 
unless, as we said, it is exceptionally well done. 


In heavier vein we find much material. " A Taint in Recent Fiction," 
in the Dartmouth Lit., gives us one of the most scathing denunciations of 
the modern moral novel, — a little too scathing, perhaps, hut to he commended 
in its o-eneral tone. 

In the Brown Magazine we find what so rarely enters a college paper 
of this kind, a scientific, nay, statistical, discussion of " Temperament," most 
carefully worked out and put into unusually interesting form, without any 
apparent attempt to pamper the college taste. We douht, however, if it 
would relish an overdose of such material. 

Carlyle is again being worked up. The Amherst Lit., in " A Political 
Idealist," and the Tennessee University Magazine, in " Carlyle's Rugged- 
ness," treat old subjects with no little strength. The latter is, perhaps, less 
interesting, since it deals with the subject as most of us have been taught to 
do in our various "English Departments." "The World's Waste," in the 
Nassau Lit., a prize oration, gives evidence of skill from the oratorical point 
of view, though it would seem forced if it had been written for another 

In verse, the pages teem with valentines ; few bearing repetition. 

We quote from the Smith Monthly : — 


Dear one, let us go forth together 

Over the hills, where the purple haze 

Breathes mystery and a witch spell lays 
On idle folk in the autumn weather. 

Peace sleeps on the hills ; shall we go find her? 

The sky is warm and the maples spread 

A myriad links of gold and red 
Adown the slope for a chain to bind her. 

Lo, into our inmost heart the river, 

The far-away thread with the silver gleam, 

Shall wind its way like a shining stream, 
With wonderful fancies alight, aquiver. 

Dear heart, let us climb together the golden 

Glorious hills ; who knows, we may 

Win to the top of silence to-day, 
Where even the tongues of the wind are holdeu. 



Macbeth: The Students' /Series of English Classics, edited, with notes 
and introduction, by James M. Garnett. Boston : Leach, Shewell & San- 
born, 1897. Price, 35 cents. 

Modern France (1789-1895): The Story of the Nations, by Andre 
Lebau, Member of the Chamber of Deputies. New York : G. P. Putnam's 
Sons, 1898. 

Thirty Years of American Finance. A short financial history of the 
government and people of the United States (1865-1896), by Alexander 
Dana Noyes. New York : G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1898. 

A Simple Grammar of English Now in Use, by John Earle, Honorary 
Doctor of Laws in the University of Aberdeen, Rawlinsonian Professor of 
Anglo-Saxon in University of Oxford. New York : G. P. Putnam's Sons, 

Love Letters, A Romance in Correspondence, by Harold P. Vynne. 
Zimmerman's Pocket Library. New York : Zimmerman's, 1898. 

Political Sermons, including the Ballad of Plymouth Church, by Wil- 
liam E. Davenport. New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1897. Price, 

Robert the Bruce and the Struggle for Scottish Independence, by Sir 
Herbert Maxwell, Bart., M. P. New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1897. 
Price, $1.50. 

Be Quincey : Confessions of an Opium Eater, with introduction and 
notes, by George Armstrong Wauchope, Professor of English in the Univer- 
sity of Iowa. Heath's English Classics. Boston : D. C. Heath & Co., 

The Pride of Jennico, being a memoir of Captain Basil Jenuico, by 
Agnes and Egerton Castle. New York: Macmillan Co., 1898. Price, 

The Celebrity, an episode, by Winston Churchill. New York: Mac- 
millan Co., 1898. Price, $1.50. 

The God-Idea of the Ancients, or Sex in Religion, by Eliza Burt Gam- 
ble. New York : Putnam's Sons, 1898. Price, $2.25. 



Thirty Years of American Finance, a short financial history of the 
government and people of the United States, 1865-1896, by Alexander 
Dana Noyes. New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1898. 

As the title indicates, "Thirty Years of American Finance " attempts 
no economic abstract argument, but a simple, concise statement of the rela- 
tion of the events in financial history between 1865 and 1897. The author 
says in the Preface: "I have not limited my narrative to public finance. 
... A story of administrative experiments in revenue or currency . . . 
when surveyed along with the political history of a period, with its indus- 
trial, agricultural, and commercial history, . . . becomes a vivid panorama 
in the struggle of society to solve the riddle of material progress. The 
fourteen-year contest over resumption of specie payments, the fall in staple 
prices, the railway expansion, the great harvests of 1879 and 1891, the ef- 
forts to get the silver dollars into circulation, the career of the American 
speculators, the enormous surplus revenue of 1888, the growth of public 
expenditure, the tariff and silver laws of 1890, the rise of the Populist party, 
the expulsion of gold, the panic of 1893, the industrial revolt of 1894, the 
Treasury deficit, and the bond issues from 1894 to 1896, — each of these 
episodes, and with them many others which will find place in our discus- 
sion, bear direct!}', not on their financial periods alone, but on all subsequent 
financial history." The author has had articles on some of the above men- 
tioned subjects in the Political Science Quarterly, although nothing is re- 
peated from these articles except the general line of discussion, and the facts 
and articles compiled. The matter throughout is well arranged, the style 
well balanced and the view in the main unprejudiced by party preference. 

The Story of the Nations: Modern France (1789-1895), by Andre 
Lebau, Member of the Chamber of Deputies. New York: G. P. Putnam's 
Sons, 1898. 

To all acquainted with the somewhat more than fifty works appearing 
in the "■ Story of the Nation" series during the past year, the addition of 
the present volume, " Modern France," is a welcome one. It sets forth ably 
and in a most interesting manner the history of the last century, so rich in 
deas, in events, and in men, as the present period has been in France. 


Such a representation, occupying only one volume, of necessity demands 
the elimination of all that is picturesque in the facts to be related, leaving 
merely their substance, and all attempt at giving any portrait of the person- 
ages whose acts are narrated in their results alone. The author, M. Andre 
Lebau, endeavors to avoid all reflection which might be attributed to party 
spirit, simply showing its obvious defects, where a political system has failed, 
without searching out its hidden virtues. Accomplished facts are related, 
and their origin sought not in the circumstances which render them difficult 
of comprehension, but in those which make them explicable. 

The book treats, in general, three periods of the century's history. 
"The first phase, following the great Revolution, when civil equality tri- 
umphed, but when power was centered in a propertied middle class, extremely 
restricted in number, ended two revolutions — the Revolution of 1830, which 
the middle class itself got up in order to break the power of royalty ; and 
that of 1848, promoted by the democracy against the middle class. The 
second phase lasted from 1848 to 1870, during which the electorate chose to 
abdicate its functions in favor of a dictator rather than see its sovereignty 
called in question by the old political parties." After the ruin and the shame 
of the Second Empire, France is depicted as engaged on the task of finding 
a modus Vivendi for equality and liberty, which shall contribute to the 
progress of democracy. " The undertaking," writes the author, " is all the 
more difficult that the instruction of the people has lagged slowly after the 
change, so that the nation's initiation into normal conditions of political life 
was not made either under the repression from which the previous generation 
suffered, nor during the struggle for existence imposed upon the Republic 
by the National Assembly, and later in 1889 and 1893." 

The God-Idea of the Ancients, or Sex in Religion, by Eliza Burt Gam- 
ble. New York : G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1898. Price, $2.25. 

".The God-Idea of the Ancients, or Sex in Religion," is the outcome of 
thought induced in the author's mind, by her search for statistics toward her 
" Evolution of Woman." Miss Gamble claims in her work that sex is the 
fundamental fact not only in the operations of nature, but in the construction 
of a god. She asserts that "a comprehensive study of prehistoric records 
shows that in an earlier age of existence upon the earth, at a time when 
woman's influence was in the ascendancy over that of man, human energy 


was directed by the altruistic characters which originated in, and have been 
transmitted through, the female; but after the decline of woman's power, all 
human institutions, customs, forms, and habits of thought, are seen to reflect 
the egotistic qualities acquired by the males. 

" Nowhere is the influence of sex more plainly manifested than in the 
formulation of religious conceptions and creeds. With the rise of male 
power and dominion, and the corresponding repression of the natural female 
instincts, the principles which originally constituted the God-idea gradually 
gave place to a deity better suited to the peculiar bias which had been given 
to the male organism. An anthropomorphic god, like that of the Jews, — a 
god whose chief attributes are power and virile might — could have had its 
origin only under a system of masculine rule." 

The idea has evidently been thought worthy the author's closest applica- 
tion, and its setting forth well indicates the study she has given to it. The 
growth of religions is most ably outlined, alone deserving of interest if the 
lines of sexual demarcation, and a study and emphasis of their divergence, 
does not attract the reader. 


Feb. 5. — A regular meeting of the Barn Swallows was held at the barn. 
A play, "Chums," furnished the evening's entertainment. The cast of 
characters were as follows : — 

Mr. Breed, a Vermont farmer . 
Mrs. Breed .... 
Harry, Harvard A. B. 
Tom Burnham, Harry's chum . 
Flora Strong, Mr. Breed's niece 

Miss E. Craig, '98. 

Miss Carrie Howell, '98. 

Miss Martha Griswold, '99. 

Miss M. Dodd. 

Miss E. Bach, '98. 

Feb. 6. — Rev. F. W. Hamilton, of Roxbury, Mass., preached in the 
chapel at the usual hour. At 7 p. ai. Rev. E. A. Paddock gave an account 
of missionary and educational work at Weiser, Idaho. 

Feb. 7. — 7.30 p. m. Mr. and Mrs. George Henschel gave a song 
recital in the chapel under the auspices of the Class of '98. 

Feb. 8. — Examinations close. 

Feb. 9. — Second term besrins. 


Feb. 10. — 4.15. Mr. C. Howard Walker, of the department of Archi- 
tecture of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, gave the first of a 
series of lectures on " The History of Ornamentation." The lecture was 
primarily for members of the Art courses, but other members also of the 
College were invited. 

Feb. 12. — 3.20 p. m. Mr. Walker gave his second lecture in the Art 
Building. In the chapel pupils of the school of music gave an informal 

Feb. 13. — Rev. F. E. Clark, president of the United Society of 
Christian Endeavor, conducted the usual morning services in the chapel. 

Feb. 14. — 7.30. Mr. Kenyon Cox lectured in the Art Building on 
"Michael Angelo." 

Feb. 17. — Mr. Walker gave the third of his lectures at 4.15 in the Art 
Building. At 7.15, instead of the usual weekly prayer-meeting, services 
were held in honor of Mr. Durant's birthday, at which Miss Bates read a 

Feb. 19. — 3.20. Mr. Gerald Stanley Lee lectured in the chapel on 
" Kipling." In the Art Building Mr. Walker gave the fourth of his series 
of lectures. At 7.30 p. m. a regular meeting of the Barn Swallows was 
held in the barn. Scenes from famous works furnished the entertainment. 
Following are the selections and cast : — 
Scene I., from " Captains Courageous." 

Capt. Troop . . . Miss Edith Claypole, of the facult}'. 

Harvey Cheyne . . . > Miss Annie Davis, 1901. 

Dan, Capt. Troop's son . . Miss Maybelle Phillips, 1900. 

Scene II., from " Jane Eyre," Mr. Brocklehurst's visit to Lowood. 

Mr. Brocklehurst . . . Miss Mansfield, 1901. 

Miss Temple 

Jane Eyre .... 
Julia Severn ... 
Mrs. Brocklehurst 

The Misses Brocklehurst 

Scene III., from " Mill on the Floss 


Mas:2'ie .... 


Miss Maine, '98. 

Miss Fairlie, 1900. 

Miss Kilpatrick, '99. 

Miss S. Maude Moore, '98. 

5 Miss Gordon Walker, 1900. 

I Miss C. Rodman, 1901. 

Miss Grace Hoge, '98. 
Miss di Zerega, 1901. 


Scene IV., from " Uncle Tom's Cabin." 

Miss Ophelia .... Miss Locke, of* the faculty. 

Topsy ..... Miss Julia Berryman, 1901. 

Eva . Miss Leonard, '99. 

Rosa Miss Alice Childs, '98. 

Scene V., from " Princeton Stories," " The Hazing of Valiant." 

Valiant, posing as the professor's wife, Miss Lucy Wright, 1900. 

Buckley, a sophomore .... Miss Loop, 1900. 

Feb. 20. — The regular Sunday service was conducted at 3.30 r. m., 
instead of 11 a. m., by the Rev. Mr. Chandler, of the Wellesley Congrega- 
tional Church. 

Feb. 22. — Washington's Birthday was celebrated by the omission of 
recitations, the singing of "America" in the chapel, and the decoration of 
the center with the flag belonging to the Agora Society. In the evening, 
the usual Glee Club concert was given. The center, as usual, was prettily 
decorated with rugs and screens. 

Feb. 24. — Mr. Walker gave his last lecture on " Ornamentation." 

Feb. 26. — Mrs. Irvine, assisted by members of the faculty, was at 
home to the members of the senior class from three until six. At 7.30 the 
Agora held an open meeting in the barn, at which a representation of a 
meeting of the Central Labor Union was interestingly given. The speakers 
were as follows : — 

Brother Jacob ..... Miss Helen H. Davis. 

Representative of the Brewers' Union. 

Brother Laborie ..... Miss Eleanor Brookes. 
Representative of the Carpenters' Union. 

Brother Polovsky ..... Miss Lucy M. Wright. 
Representative of the Garment Makers' Union. 

Mr. Zelaya ..... Miss Ruth S. Goodwin. 

JVon- Unionist. 

Feb. 27. — Rev. Francis Brown, of Union Theological Seminary, con- 
ducted the usual eleven o'clock service in the chapel. 

Feb. 28. — Mrs. Irvine was at home to seniors at Norumbega. The 
junior members of Society T. Z. E. gave a ribbon german in the barn. At 


7.30 Mr. Frederick Robertson lectured on " The Future of the Liberal 
Party in England." After the lecture the members of the history classes met 
Mr. Robertson in the Horsford parlor. 

March 3. — Instead of the usual prayer meeting, memorial services in 
memory of Miss Frances E. Willard were conducted under the auspices of 
the Temperance Committee of the Christian Association. 

Ninety-eight sends its last Magazine to print, and gives over its respon- 
sibilities and privileges into the hands of the following Board of Editors of 
the Class of '99 : Editor in chief, Grace Louise Cook ; assistant editor, 
Bernice O. Kelley ; literary editors, Margaret Bell Merrill, Helen Burton, 
Geraldine Gordon, 1900 ; business managers, Maude Emily McClary and 
Louise Baldwin. 


A programme meeting of Alpha Kappa Chi was held Feb. ,12, 1898, in 
Elocution Hall. The following programme was rendered : — 
Fifth Century (480-400 B. C.) 

I. Symposium. 

Excavations at Olympia . . . Nellie Luther Fowler, '98. 

II. Programme : — 

a. Results of the Persian War . . Mary Mirick, '98. 

b. Olympian Sculpture. 

1. Pediments . . ) -»,*■ t? 1-4.1 * >no 

~ ~ T , 1 i.1 i > M. Edith Ames, '98. 

z. Metopes and other decorations $ 

c. Myron and his sculpture . . Florence Ethel Bailey, 1900, 

A programme meeting of the Society Alpha Kappa Chi was held Friday 
evening, Feb. 25, 1898, in Elocution Hall. The following programme was 
rendered : — 

Fifth Century (2d part, 480-400 B. C.) 
I. Symposium. 
Influence of athletics upon Greek sculp- 
ture Mary Galbraith, '98. 

II. Programme : — 

1. Pheidias Estelle Smith, 1900. 


2. Sculpture of the Parthenon. 

a. Pediments ) ,, _. , ft 

b. Frieze and Metopes \ ' ' ' M ^ Pierce ' 98 " 

3. Other Athenian Sculptures. 

a. Erectheum } 

b. Nilse V . . . . Louise T. Wood, '98. 

c. Theseum ) 

The Society Tau Zeta Epsilon held a regular meeting December the 
first, at which the following programme was given : — 

1. History of Music in Germany . . Maude W. Clark. 

2. Famous German Composers . . Bernice O. Kelly. 

3. Styles of Music and Famous Compo- 

sitions Elsie L. Stern. 

. A , . ( Mary G. Martin. 

4. Music . . . . . < t -i x> u 

( Eucile .Reynolds. 

5. Current Topics .... Carrie M. Harbach. 

At a meeting of the Society Tau Zeta Epsilon, held December the 
eighth, Miss Jessie Cameron, 1900, was initiated into the society. 

At a regular meeting of the Society Tau Zeta Epsilon, held January 
the fifteenth, the following programme was given : — 

1. Italian Opera ..... Gertrude C. Underhill. 

2. French Opera .... Mabel Wood. 

3. German Opera .... Grace Sutherland. 

4. Current Topics .... Mabel Tower. 

A meeting of Society Zeta Alpha was held on Saturday evening, 
February 5. The following programme was presented: — 

Review of Tennyson's Memoirs . . Hannah Hume. 

Recent Essays ..... Rachel Hoge. 

The Tendencies of Modern Fiction . . Josephine Baxter. 
Current Event : The Discovery of Papyrus 

in Egypt ..... Mary Oliphant. 

A meeting of Society Zeta Alpha was held on Saturday evening, 
February 26. The subject for the evening was the Arthurian Legends, 
and the following papers were read : — 


Bomances of Chivalry .... Josephine Hay ward. 
Origin and Growth of the Arthurian 

Legend ..... Marjorie Dutch. 

Malory's Morte D'Arthur .... Grace M. Hoge. 

Current Event : The Maine Disaster . . Wilhelmine Bayliss. 


From the 1897 " Annals of the Class of '86" we clip the following: 
"Elizabeth W. Braley is teaching again in the Pennsylvania Charter School 
in Philadelphia, Pa. Lucy F. Friday is teaching Greek and Latin in the 
Pennsylvania College for Women at Pittsbui'g, Pa." 

Mary C. Mosman has been active in the new movement of the Boston 
Educational and Industrial Union toward a scientific treatment of the 
domestic problem, a movement of which the press thus far is taking much 

Lilian E. Pool is teaching at the Burnham School in Northampton, 

Clara R. Walker is teaching for the seventh year in the Hillhouse 
High School, of New Haven, Conn. 

Jessie Claire McDonald, '88, President of the Alumna? Association, 
spent the week February 11-18, at the college. 

Gertrude M. Willcox, '88, sailed for Japan in February, 1897, as a 
missionary of the American Board. She is engaged in studying the language 
and in teaching in Kobe College, Kobe, Japan, where Miss Susan A. Searle, 
'81, is continuing her work as acting president. 

The class letter of '89 has just appeared. We clip the following : "Ruth 
E. Abbott is teaching in Derby Academy, Hingham, Mass. She is substi- 
tuting for Miss Sarah Robinson, Wellesley, '82." 

The address of Mary Bean Jones is P. O. Box 246, Conshohocken, Pa. 

Caroline M. Field is teaching Latin and Art in Miss Kimball's schoo 
for girls at Worcester, Mass. 


May Margaret Fine is acting as business manager for her brother's 
school in Princeton, N. J. 

Florence M. Fisherdick is teaching Greek and Geometry in the High 
School at Meriden, Conn. 

Eleanor Gamble has almost completed her third and last year of gradu- 
ate study at Cornell University. 

Lovisa B. Gere is teaching English Literature at Walton, N. Y. 

Sarah H. Groff is teaching Latin in the Girls' High School of German- 
town, Pa. 

Mary F. Hitch is teaching Greek, Latin, and Mathematics in a college 
preparatory school for boys and girls in New Bedford, Mass. 

Helen W. Holmes is assisting Miss Wheelock in the work with the 
Kindergarten Training 1 Class of Boston. 

Gertrude James is teaching in the High School in Portland, Oregon. 

Katharine J. Lane is taking a course of study at Badcliffe. 

Lucia D. Leffingwell has returned again to the art work in New York, 
which she dropped because of ill health. 

Grace Lee, formerly '89, is in the office of the Children's Art Society, 
Boston, Mass. 

Anita Whitney is living in Washington, D. C. 

The engagement of Alice Reed, '93, is announced. 

The engagement is announced of Annie Tomlinson, '93, to Mr. Sanford, 
principal of the Brookline High School. 

Lillian Brandt, '95, has been appointed principal of Lindenwood Col- 
lege, St. Charles, Mo. 

The address of Cordelia C. Nevers, '96, is Langlaogte, Transvaal, South 

Annie Kimball Tuell, '96, is teaching in the Westbrook Seminary, at 
Deering, Me. 


Edith Whitlock, '96, has entered the Training School for Nurses, Port- 
land, Me. Her address is Maine Eye and Ear Infirmary, Portland. 

Alice W. Burchard, '97, is pursuing post-graduate studies at the North- 
western University, Evanston, 111. Her address is Kenilworth, 111. 

The Eastern New York Wellesley Club held a social meeting with the 
president, Miss Ada Alice Jones, 457 State Street, Albany, Saturday after- 
noon, February 5. 

The annual reunion of the Washington Wellesley Association was held 
on Monday, January 3, at the residence of Miss Teller, and proved, as al- 
ways, a delightful affair. After a short address of welcome by the retiring 
president, Mrs. Diller, a brief programme was rendered, consisting of a violin 
solo by Miss Allen, '94, a piano solo by Miss Cummings, '97, and the al- 
ways welcome annals of the recent doings at college, by Miss Hoge, '98. 
Miss McDonald, president of the Wellesley Alumna? Association, also spoke, 
voicing the continuous loyalty of all Wellesley alumnae for our Alma Mater, 
and the aims of the alumna? for greater usefulness to the College Beautiful. 
The formal part of the meeting closed with the singing of Alma Mater, and 
the college cheer. An enjoyable social hour was then spent, during which 
refreshments were served. 

The Wellesley College Club of Philadelphia gave a concert on the even- 
ing of February 8, for the benefit of the Shaffer Memorial Fund. 

The New York Wellesley Club accepted the hospitality of Mrs. Hector 
Hitchings for the monthly meeting on February 19, the guest of honor being- 
Mrs. Ellis Rowan of England. Owing to the great inclemency of the 
weather very few were able to see Mrs. Rowan's beautiful paintings of the 
flora of Australia, of which she has a wonderful collection. Those who did 
brave the storm heard with pleasure Mrs. Rowan's interesting talk on these 
flowers, after which they welcomed Miss McDonald, '88, president of the 
Alumnae Association. Miss McDonald spoke of the old Wellesley, the glori- 
ous prospects of the new Wellesley, besides giving a clear idea of the needs 
and aims of the Association. As she was on her way from the college she 
brought many cordial greetings, while she carried away with her the good- 
will and best wishes of the Wellesley Club. 



Feb. 3. — The Merry Maidens repeated their play, " A Love of a Bon- 
net." Mrs. Taylor sang. A number of Lasell girls were present as guests. 
The audience numbered from forty-five to fifty. 

Feb. 8. — First of the series of lectures for club workers. Miss Fisher 
srave an interesting talk on " Nature Work." She suaaested that much 
could be done in the winter, observing the varied phenomena of the sky, the 
snowflakes, trees, etc. In spring and summer botany and zoology could be 
studied in the fields and from specimens ; also the sea, shells, and pebbles. 
Miss Fisher pointed out four ways in which each subject might be studied. 
1. Observation of natural objects. 2. Drawing. 3. Looking at pictures. 
4. Studying the literature, poems, myths, etc., relating to the subject. 
Residents' meeting in the evening. Miss Dudley spoke of the provision 
made by the city for the care of its poor. 

Feb. 9. — Miss Trimble, formerly of the Cincinnati Settlement, came 
into residence. Miss Trimble is taking several courses at Cambridge. 

Feb. 10. — Evening: Miss Seipp, Miss Converse and Miss Damon 
played the violin and piano, and sang. The Misses Mills also played and sang, 
and Mrs. Phillpot sang. Some twenty neighbors were present, beside the 
embroidery class, who came in after their lesson. 

Feb. 11. — Miss Waterman, Wellesley, '81, formerly at the New York 
College Settlement, came into residence. 

Feb. 14. — Tea given by the Teachers' Club, Governor Wolcott and 
Professor Wendell, the guests of honor. Singing by the Harvard Graduate 
Glee Club. There are already one hundred members of the Teachers' Club, 
and many on the waiting list. 

Feb. 15. — Lecture for club w r orkers, from Miss Florence Smith, on 
Teaching History through Pictures. Miss Smith brought from the Public 
Library a book about Egypt, with brightly colored illustrations, to show 
how much about the government, religion, and life of the country, as well as 
its art, might be taught through pictures. The class should draw and paint 
pictures, both from the book and from memory, and also express ideas 
through dramatics. 

Residents' meeting, evening. Miss Dudley spoke of State charities 


and reforms proposed which are embodied in a bill at present before the 
Legislature. Club of boys who came here some years ago met again to-night. 
They were found to be exceptionally bright and intelligent, much interested 
in labor questions. The New Bedford strike was the subject of the 

Feb. 17. — Most brilliant party of the year. Mr. Bancroft sang old 
songs and ballads, English, Scotch, Irish, and American, and told us a little 
of their history. There were about seventy guests. All were delighted and 
showed cn-eat enthusiasm. 

Feb. 18. — Mrs. Toby gave a second talk to the Woman's Club. 

Feb. 22. — Bishop Hall, of Vermont, called, and said a prayer for God's 
blessing on the house and its workers. 

Miss Florence Smith lectured on the " Pageant and Festival," speaking 
of the value to children of holiday observances. 

Mr. King, of Canada, who is now studying at Harvard, spoke before 
the Social Science Club, on the sweating system in Canada, where he had 
made investigations at the request of the Government. Many of the older 
club boys were present, some of them taking part in the discussion which 
followed the lecture. » 

Feb. 25. — Mrs. O'Sullivan told the Woman's Club about the Co-opera- 
tive Store at Cambridge, where they could buy groceries to their own advan- 
tage, and also help on a good cause. 

Feb. 26. — Union meeting of Boys' Clubs. Mr. Tucker gave a very 
interesting talk on "A Trip to Europe," illustrated by many photo- 


Merrill-Baker. — In Sandusky, Ohio, June 30, 1897, Miss Mary 
Georgean Baker, '86, to Mr. Albert Nathaniel Merrill. At home, 216 
Huntington Street, Cleveland, Ohio. 

Wood- Ware.— In Bangor, Me., Jan. 19, 1898, Miss Maud Ware, '92, 
to Mr. Earl Boynton Wood. At home after March 1, Fort Fairfield, Me. 

Sayre-Bartholomew. — In Hazleton, Pa., Feb. 15, 1898, Miss 
Elizabeth Bartholomew, '94, to Mr. William Heysham Sayre. 


Buck-Staples.— In Stockton, Cal., Feb. 2, 1898, Miss Blanche E. 
Cooper Staples, formerly '94, to Mr. George Buck. The present 
address of Mrs. Buck is 1106 North San Joaquin Street, Stockton, 

Brinkerhoff-Sedgwick. — In Kansas City, March 2, 1898, Miss 
Rose Fyock, formerly '97, to Mr. James Hunt Brinkerhotf. The present 
address of Mrs. Brinkerhotf is 1020 Jefferson Street, Kansas City. 


Oct. 20, 1897, in Pawtucket, R. I., a daughter, Lilli, to Mrs. Lena 
Follett Appleton, '89. 

Nov. 15, 1897, in Jamaica Plain, Mass., a son, Carl McPherson, to 
Mrs. Maiy McPherson Schaper, '93. 

Sept. 4, 1897, a son, Harold Hayden, to Mrs. Eleanore Kellogg 
Herrick, '94. 

* i 


In October, 1897, at Bridgeport, Conn., the father of Mary Walker 
Porter, '89. 

At Woburn, Mass., Jan. 30, 1898, Grace Mayland Cummings, '91. 

In Ovid, N. Y., Nov. 15, 1897, Mr. James A. Purdy, father of Clara 
R. Purdy, '97. 

Died at Sharon, Mass., on Sunday, March 6, Helen Pettee, of the 
Class of '9 8. 

Whereas, Our Heavenly Father, out of the abundance of His love and 
in His infinite wisdom, has taken from us our friend, Helen Pettee, be it 

Resolved, That we, the Agora of Wellesley College, express our deep 
sorrow at the loss of one who by her loyal friendship and by her strong and 
beautiful character has left w T ith us both the memory and the blessing of 
Christlike life. And also be it 


Resolved, That we who for a few years have known her and loved her, 
express our heartfelt sympathy to those to Avhom her going will bring the 
greatest loss and deepest sorrow. 

Whereas, The death of our friend is deeply felt by those who knew 
her, be it 

Resolved, That copies of these resolutions be sent to her family, 
published in The Wellesley Magazine, and recorded in the books of the 

For the Agora, 

Edna Seward. 
Helen Davis. 
Ruth Goodwin. 




Lenox Waists 

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323 and 325 Washington Street. 

454 Boylston Street, corner Berkeley Street. 


Plotopni Supplies, Cameras, 

Etc., of Every Description. 

128-page Catalogue on application. 

Our Stock 

Intercollegiate Bureau and Registry. 



If it's new w 
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Gifts, all prio 
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Illustrated Catalogue and Particulars on Application. 


Every Requisite 




Fancy Biscuits. 



Pickles, etc. 

for a 

Dainty Lunch 


Cobb, Bates & Yerxa Co's, 

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Wishes to announce to the Young Ladies that she has received 
her Fall and Winter Stock of 

Velveteen and 

French Flannel Waists. 

They are in Plain, Striped, and Plaid Effects, and are in beautiful shades of Red, Green, 
Purple, Brown, and Black. The style is very attractive, and the fit perfect, as they have 
been made on Miss Fisk's special chart. Miss Fisk would be greatly pleased to have you 
examine them, sending you all a cordial invitation to do so. 

Something New in Stationery, 

Prescriptions Accurately Compounded. 

WELLESLEY FLAG. Call and see it. 

Also a line of Baker's and Huyler's 

STORY & CUTTER, Shattuck Building, Wellesley. 




Lar.e Hrid, of FANCY BOXES. & BASKETS. 

suitable for PRESENTS. 

^t^\l46 TREMONT ST. 




••The Newest •• 

Fasins in shoes mioiiig Lauies 

are to be found at 

Thayer's New Store, 

I44 TreiTlOnt Street, between Temple 
Place and West Street. 

A Discount of 10 per cent to Pupils and Teachers. 


Wellesley Preparatory, 


For circular address the Principals, 



To cut down your school expenses. Look ! ! ! 

Students' Paper, 25 cts. per lb. 
Students' Covers, 20 and 25 cts. each. 
Students' ("T.&M.Co.") Pencils, 35 cts. doz. 
Students' "Sterling" Steel Pens, 60 cts. gross. 
Engraved Plate and 100 Calling Cards, $1.50. 

Engrraved Die, 100 Sheets Paper and ) (it A A n 
100 Envelopes, Finest Quality. ... .] ■/P'T. 1 / • 

All Students' Supplies equally low. Always use our A=A 
Waterman's " Standard " Fountain Pen. 


Stationers Engravers Printers, 

12 Milk Street, Boston. 

'Wright & Ditson, 

The Leading Athletic Outfitters of New England. 

Spring and Summer Athletic Supplies. 


Base Ball, Golf, Tennis, Cricket, Track and Field. 

Catalogue of Athletic Sports Free. 
New England Agents for 


'98 Models, Chainleas and Chain. 

Wright & Ditson, 

344 Washington Street, Boston, Mass. 
"WE make a specialty of 

Winter Weight 

Walking Boots. .. 

Box Calf, Willow Calf. 

Rubber-sole Gymnasium Shoes 

A Full Line of Rubbers. 


No. 3 Clark's Block, 
IVatiek, Mass. 


The Dana Hall School, 


Pupils are prepared for regular or for special 
courses at Wellesley College. 

Price for Board and Tuition, $500 for the 
school year; Tuition for day pupils, $125. 

For further information address the Principals : 

Julia A. Eastman. 

Sarah P. Eastman. 

Kent Place School 
for Girls, 

Summit, New Jersey. 

Hamilton W. Mabie, 

Application may be made to the 

Mrs. Sarah Woodman Paul. 

Junius W. Hill, 

(Leipsic, 1S60-1S63.) 

For the past thirteen years Professor of 
Music in Wellesley College, and Director 
of the Wellesley College School of Music, 



At his Studio in Boston, 

154 Tremont Street. 

Specialties. — The Art of Piano-playing, Organ, 
Harmony, and Voice Culture. Correspondence so- 
licited. Circulars sent on application to any address. 



Union Teacners' Agencies of America. 

Rev. L. D. BASS, D.D., Manager. 

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There are thousands of positions to be filled. We had over 
8,000 vacancies during the past season. Unqualified facilities 
for placing teachers in every part of the United States and 
Canada, as over 95 per cent of those who registered before Au. 
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dress all applications to SALTSBURY, PA. 

Best Work. 

Lowest Prices. 

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Telephone, Boston 273. 

Full Count. Prompt Delivery. 

Insignia, Badges, Society Stationery. 

The Bailey, Banks & Biddle Company has as- 
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execution of orders for Insignia, Badges, and 
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is absolutely insured. 

Patrons may feel equal confidence in the cor- 
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pared by this house. 

The Bailey, Banns 4 midii Company. 

Jewelers, Silversmiths, Stationers, 




Via Fall River and Newport. 

The Famous Steamboats of this Line, the 


are substantially alike in design, appliances, finish, and fur- 
nishings, and the perfection of their service in every depart- 
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The Route traversed by the Pall River Line is unsur- 
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Special Vestibuled Express Train leaves Boston 
from Park Square Station. 


0. P. A., N. V., N. H.;& H. R. R. (0. C. System), 0. P. A., Fall River Line, 
Boston. New York. 

L. H. PALMER, Boston Pass'r Agt., 
No. 3 Old State House, Boston. 

AD VER TI SEMEN 7 ',s '. 

^arl J. ^orr^er, 

11 Winter Street, Boston, Mass. 

Elevator to Studio. 

<?lass ptyotcx^raptyer 

Jo U/ellesley <?olle$e, '98. 

Special Rates to Friends of the College. 
Mention this Advertisement. 


Troy, New York. 

preparatory, /leademie and Qraduate 


Departments of Music and Art. 

Certificate admits to Wellesley, Smith, and Vas9ar Colleges. 
85th year opens September 21, 189S. 



Costume Parlors, 


(Near Old Public Library.) 
Telephone, Tremont 1314. BOSTON, MASS. 


For Masquerades, Old Folks' Concerts, 

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Ladies' Shirt Waists 

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For variety and attractiveness of pattern, for style 
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TheH. H. "TuttleShoe" 

is made on men's lasts. Has that graceful outside 
swing that gives the little toe breathing room. Double- 
soled calf for those who want heavy shoes. Lighter 
grades for others. $4 to $8 is the price. Discount to 
Students and Faculty. 

H. H. TUTTLE & CO., 

Washington St., cor. Winter Street. 



New York infirmary for Women and Children, 

'"THE Thirty-second Annual Session opens October 
1,1897. Four years, Graded Course. Instruc- 
tion by Lectures, Clinics, Recitations and practical 
work, under supervision in Laboratories, and Dis- 
pensary of College, and in New York Infirmary. 
Clinics and operations in most of the City Hospitals 
and Dispensaries open to Women Students. For 
Catalogues, etc., address 

321 East 15TH St., New York. 

H. H. CARTER & CO., 

Stationers *P Engravers 


20 per cent Discount 


Made by Wellesley College Students. 

5 Somerset St. (near Beacon), 


19 Bromfield Street - Boston, 

Artists' Material 



Christmas, Easter, Valentine 
and Birthday Gifts, etc 


Usual Discount to Students. 

Joel Goldthwait & Company, 

Have just opened and are now ready to show 
a large and very fine line of 

Scotch • Axminsters, • English • Wiltons • and • Brussels, 

With a full stock of 

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Blanket Wraps . . . $5.00 to $15.00 

Flannel Wraps . . . 10.00 " 14.00 

Cheviot Wraps . . . 6.50 " 13.00 

Bath Wraps .... 8.50 " 12.00 

Bath Slippers ... 1.00" 1.50 

Golf Waists .... 5.00 " 9.00 

Flannel Waist* . . . 5.00 " 9.00 

Cheviot Waists . . . 5.00 

Sweaters 5.00 " 6.00 

Pajamas 4.50 " 16.00 

Union Undergarments 2.50 " 6.75 

GolfOapes .... 15.09 

Mackintoshes to order 10.00 " 37.50 

Cravenettes to order . 10.50 " 32.00 

Walking Gloves . . 2.00 

Driving Gloves . . . 2.50 

Golf Gloves .... 2.00 

Bicycle Gloves ... 1.50 

Satin or Silk Stocks 
Hunting Stocks 
Riding Cravats 
String Ties . 
Stick Pins . . 
Sleeve Links . 
Sleeve Buttons 
Collar Buttons 
Umbrellas . . 
Abdominal Bands 
Woolen Knee Caps 
Fleecy Lined Bed H 
Couch Covers 
Traveling Rugs 
Plush Rugs . 
Sleeping Robes 
Colored Dolls 

Humber Bicycles, $100.00 to $106.00 

Noyes Bros., 

Washington and Summer Streets, Boston, Mass., U 

. R. Warren Co. 



Engravers and 



Pens, Ink, Pencils, 

Pocketbooks, Card Cases, Playing Card*, 

Fountain Pens, Stylographic Pens, 


Students' Notebooks, 

Address, Engagement, Shopping and Visiting Books 

Paine's Duplicate Whist, 


Everything in Writing Materials. 


No. 336 Washington Street, Boston. 




Ladies' and Children's 


Our Display of 

Coats, Suits, Wraps, Furs, Waists, 
Rainproof Garments, Tea Gowns, 
and Silk Petticoats is the handsom- 
est and most complete we have ever 
shown, including our own direct im- 
portation of 

Paris and Berlin Novelties. 

Correct Styles. Moderate Prices. 

Nos. 531 and 533 Washington Street, 

Telephone 2254. 

F * 

Frank Wood, Boston, Mass. 

- ' . -._.